


Comparisons

by Nox (Sheut)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical blood and violence, Character Study, F/F, Lena has a lot of feels, apparently im only capable of highkey drama or utter crack, death but no major character deaths, there is no in-between, this started out as smut you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 06:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut/pseuds/Nox
Summary: The field has taught Tracer to rely on her senses.Emily has taught Lena when to let them go.





	

“Nice run today Trace. Not gonna let you win the next time around though!”

Tracer laughs and gives Hana a friendly punch before winking, “Gotta catch me first, Bunny.” She throws an arm around the younger woman’s shoulder as they walk into the locker room.

Hana theatrically pinches her nose and sticks her tongue out, shoving Tracer away from her. “Ew, get away, you stink.”

She gives Hana a mock glare as she dumps her training pistols on the floor and sets about to unbuckling the heavy accelerator from her shoulders. “It’s not like _you_ smell any better than I do,” she accuses, gesturing at her equally sweaty figure.

Hana locks eyes with her. “Of course I do! Everyone knows that I smell of _sweet sweet victory_ ,” she says with a serious face. A moment of silence, and then the duo dissolve into helpless laughter.

“You are _such_ a dork,” Tracer accuses through giggles, poking Hana’s nose with her finger. The moment passes, and they remove their gear in comfortable silence. Tracer sets the accelerator on the bench before rolling her tired shoulders and stretching, wincing at the burn of pain that surges through her muscles. _Yup, definitely a taking a hot shower,_ she decides, pulling the sweat-soaked workout shirt off. A low whistle interrupts her musing.

“Oh, wow. Get a little wild with Emily yesterday, Trace?”

She flushes and sheepishly rubs the back of her neck.

 "Uh... yeah. Something like that... "

* * *

“Trust me, pet?”

Red silk blocks Lena’s vision and puffs of hot breath hit her cheek as strands of red hair tickle her neck. The whispered words are loud in the silence of the room, clear even over the hammering of her heart. A drop of sweat trails down her sternum, leaving goosebumps over bare flesh in its wake as it crawls lower, sending a flash of anticipation and desire coursing through her entire being.

She opens her mouth to reply and swallows once, twice, words failing her. Lena flushes, and an amused murmur sounds as a finger under her chin gently pushes her head up. 

* * *

“We’re hit!” Tracer grits her teeth as she wrestles for control with the stricken Orca. The screeching alarms tell her what she already knows - an engine and wing critically damaged, and more missiles on their tail. She casts a wild look over her shoulder and takes in the resigned faces of her teammates - _her family_ \- before turning back to the controls with a look of grim determination on her face, a reckless, _stupid_ plan born of desperation in her mind.

“Guys, strap in and hold on. Athena, disengage autopilot.”

“Are you certain Tracer? That is unad-”

“Just do it Athena! _Trust me_.”

“Autopilot overridden. Manual controls engaged.” 

* * *

Lena takes in a stuttering breath through parted lips and nods best as she can against the firm pressure at her chin that is tilting her head upwards.

“Always, Mistress.”

* * *

Light. Brilliant. Painful.

Tracer crouches behind the damaged Orca, blinking against the harsh sun and chasing away spots from her vision. Genji and Lucio have similarly taken cover behind the rubble of now-demolished buildings, victims of their controlled crash landing. She peeks from behind her cover and instantly regrets it as the bright flash of flashbangs blinds her again.

Genji catches her eye and she nods, pulling out a Pulse Bomb before priming it and tossing it in the direction of the gunfire. She counts the seconds, the familiar _tick tick ticktickticktick_ playing in her head before the bomb explodes in a bright blue flash and a shower of dust and debris rains down upon them.

They jump out from behind the cover, taking advantage of the confusion the bomb has caused. Bullets whizz past her head, forcing her to blink behind an upturned metal bin. She shuffles, and a sticky _squelch_ makes her look down at her feet. Charred, dismembered limbs decorate the ground beneath her and blood pools at her feet.

Tracer suppresses a shudder and returns her attention to the battlefield. She has a job to do.

* * *

Darkness. Enveloping. Comforting.

The blindfold robs Lena of her sight. She waits patiently, silently, senses heightened to compensate for the lack of vision. The comforting blue glow of the accelerator, a reminder of _here_ and _now_ is hidden from her sight. But Lena knows that when she is with Mistress, she is safe, she is loved.

Lena sits patiently and waits. Emily will take care of her.

* * *

Explosions. Deafening. Terrifying.

Another cluster of grenades explodes behind her and - _is that a rocket launcher?_ Tracer abandons battle plans and blinks, blinks, blinks again, diving behind the wreckage of a car and barely making it as the spot she was hiding behind is obliterated to a charred, blackened crater. She groans as she picks herself up, heart hammering and blood thundering in her ears.

“--cher at your position! Tracer, come in! Tracer!”

The adrenaline of the moment slowly passes, and Tracer belatedly registers her comm unit squawking over the ringing in her ears.

“Tracer repor-” she breaks off into a hacking cough mid-sentence, putting her hands on her knees as she tries to regain her composure. “Tracer reporting in,” she says hoarsely, taking gulping breaths in between words.

“What the fuck are you doing?? We need you to cover our left flank, get on it!” Morrison yells.

Tracer wipes the dust and blood from her face and ignores the burning in her lungs, the ringing in her ears.

“Affirmative, moving into position.” 

* * *

Silence. Peaceful. Calming.

Soft footfalls, a whisper of cloth. Lena shivers as wicked lips whisper sinfully sweet promises into her ear. The lips move to her piercings, and she lets out a stuttering gasp when teeth graze the shell of her ear before closing around a piercing and giving a firm tug. The thundering in her ears gets louder, and Emily chuckles lowly against her before moving away.

Lena whines softly, but doesn’t say anything else. She knows that all she has to do is say the word - but she’s more than content to wait. The silence is safe, comforting. It doesn’t demand anything of her; she can quiet her mind and let Emily make the decisions for her.

“You’re gorgeous, you know?”, Emily murmurs from behind her. “Such a beautiful girl. So brave. So gallant.” She drops a kiss at the top of Lena’s head. “Are you sure you’re still up for this?” she asks, breaking character. Lena’s heart melts a little, and she nods.

“Yeah. I… I need this,” she whispers hoarsely, almost pleadingly.

A hand softly squeezes her shoulder. “Sit back then, pet. Let me take care of you.”

* * *

Gunpowder. Fear. Despair.

Tracer cautiously makes her way through the narrow alleys, using the scant cover the rubble provides to check for Talon agents as she goes. The streets are littered with bodies of the dead, and flies buzz around them in the hot summer sun. The hot scent of blood, molten metal, and charred flesh cuts across the smell of stillness and gunpowder, and her stomach churns.

Tracer holds her breath until she feels like her lungs might burst, but she pushes on. Her team is depending on her.

* * *

Roses. Books. Home.

Lena’s breath hitches as Emily kisses a path down her back. Hands run up her abdomen, reaching up to cup her breasts. She breathes in deeply as Emily pinches her nipples and bites lightly at the junction between her neck and shoulder. Hair falls across her shoulder and the faint smell of roses wafts through the air. It is a stark contrast from the battlefield, the hot, metallic smells replaced by the mellower, comforting reminders of home and safety.

She inhales greedy gasps of air, savoring the familiarity of it, finally letting herself relax.

* * *

Blood. Iron. Dust.

The rancid taste of rotting flesh and dust coats her tongue, flows down her throat. Bile rises up halfway to meet it, and Tracer gags. She runs her tongue across her teeth with a grimace, almost as if she’s trying to scrub the taste of death and decay from her mouth.

Tracer feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up and rewinds out of reflex. Bullets pepper the ground where she was standing, and she once again dives behind cover. She narrows her eyes as she searches for the source of the bullets and - _there_. The faintest glint of glass shines from behind the rubble in a demolished building and Tracer grins savagely.

_Gotcha._

She vanishes in a blur of blue before reappearing in front of the five would-be ambushers.

“‘Ello there, mates,” she snarls as unloads a clip into the head of the nearest Talon soldier. Blood splatters across her goggles, leaving red smears across her vision as she wipes it off.

The surviving four warily surround her and she gives a feral, toothy smile. “Fancy a fair dance then?”

Tracer doesn’t wait for a reply as she blinks behind the second agent and kicks him in the back, sending him stumbling into his teammates. A bullet grazes her cheek, painting a line of white hot pain and she hisses before blinking into the face of the third agent. She knees him in the stomach, using the momentum from the blink to enhance the blow. Grabbing his neck, Tracer spins him around, using his body as a temporary cover as she blindly fires at the other three agents, waiting for her accelerator to recharge.

A sharp elbow to her face makes her loosen her hold on the operative and she staggers back through the pain.

The taste of blood and iron fills her mouth - a cocktail of violence, death, destruction. She spits, shakes her head, and gathers herself into a fighting stance once more.

“Let’s try that again.”

_Rewind._

* * *

Tea. Strawberries. Emily.

One hand creeps up, thumb coming to rest against her lips. Lena swallows shakily and parts her lips. The hand fondling her breast gives her a loving pinch as the thumb gently presses in, running over her teeth, pressing against her tongue, petting the insides of her dry mouth.

The hands disappear, and Lena lets out a plaintive whine.

“Patience, pet,” Emily whispers, sliding around to sit on Lena’s lap. She grinds slowly, leaning in and stopping shy of Lena’s lips.

_Don’t move. Be good. Don’t move. Trust Emily._

A sharp tug to her hair has Lena drawing a gasp that’s swallowed by Emily’s lips as she finally, _finally_ kisses Lena. She keens as pain blossoms on her lower lip before being soothed by a hot wet tongue that licks its way into her mouth. The hands in her hair pull her closer, impossibly close and she’s burning, panting, shivering, her moans swallowed by the insistent lips that cover hers.

Emily tastes of lemons and tea, and the faintest hint of the strawberries she was eating earlier.

Lena loses herself in that taste, lets herself drown.

* * *

Bullets. Bruises. Punches.

Tracer pops back into time with a lurching sensation, materializing in the middle of the group. A single heartbeat passes, and she disappears once more. The room becomes a blur of blue as Tracer turns into a flurry of bullets and punches.

A fist to the solar plexus, a bullet to the knee, the butt of a gun to the back of her head. Tracer receives as much as she dishes out, and by the time the Talon agents are lying in an unresponsive pile, her entire body aches. She breathes raggedly, clutching at her side and coughing.

_Angie’s gonna kill me_ , she thinks idly as she makes a mental tally of her injuries. _Broken rib, possible contusion, a hell of a lot of bruises, and… aw, shite._ She winces, looking at the bullet holes riddling her accelerator casing. _Forget Angie,_ Winston’s _gonna kill me._

She keys her comm unit once more, grimacing at the painful throb that radiates through her arm at the motion.

“Tracer to command, requesting evac.”

The chaos of the battlefield sounds through the comm, and Jack can barely be heard over the heavy gunfire. “Negative, we’re taking heavy fire. Get your ass to the LZ!”

The battle high has worn off, the adrenaline of the fight has faded.

Tracer wearily begins her long walk.

* * *

Fingers. Lips. Caresses.

Fleeting, cruel touches. Clever, long fingers flit down Lena’s body, pressing, scratching, pinching, _teasing._ Each touch sets her skin aflame and she pants desperately into Emily’s mouth, waiting,   _hoping_ for more.

Warm fingers trace patterns on her arms, slowly meandering their way south… but stopping _just_ above her mound before beginning their journey back up. A light teasing touch between her legs makes Lena break the kiss with a whimper, and Emily _tsks_.

“Impatient girl.”

_Oh shit._ Lena freezes as Emily pulls away, resisting the urge to chase after her lips.

“Look at you.”

A single nail scrapes down between her breasts and circles a stiff nipple, and Lena tries not to fidget.

“So pretty.”

She feels more than hears the next word against her skin, and she shivers as Emily growls before biting sharply into her neck.

_“Mine.”_

Blunt nails dig into her back, dragging down as Lena moans. A small, rational part of her wildly acknowledges that she’s gonna have a helluva hickey to cover the next day before the thought is wiped from her mind. Hands and lips alternate between feather light touches and harsh bites, and a wicked _(wonderful)_ tongue traces wet patterns on her neck.

Lena loses herself in the haze of pain and pleasure.

She loves that the night has only just begun.

* * *

The LZ - or what’s left of it - is a mess of twisted metal and concrete. Tracer stares at it in dismay for a long moment before snapping back into action.

“Uh, Jack. LZ is a no-go,” she comms, hunkering behind the charred remains of a bus.

Static plays back and she chews her lip worriedly. She’s debating between staying behind cover and making her way back to the front lines when the chatter from the comms startles her out of her thoughts.

“Everyone, head to the fallback point! Tracer - Winston’s roughly 3 klicks south from your position with the backup Orca, see if you can bring it around there. Genji - get Lucio and head there.”

Tracer’s stomach sinks and she gives a mechanical affirmative as she walks towards Winston’s location.

_I should’ve been there._

 

_I could’ve done more._

 

_I let them down._

* * *

Sensations threaten to overwhelm her as Emily teasingly pets at Lena. Her hips buck and she seeks more contact, more friction, _anything_ \- but Emily has her pinned and she is helpless. The mouth at her neck slowly travels down, lavishing wet kisses interspersed with sharp nips on her sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “ _Please.”_

Emily grins against her, lightly drawing circles on her inner thigh as she moves further down, licking a path from her clavicle to her breast. Lena lets out a breathless gasp, her breath hitching and turning into a long drawn out moan as Emily finally, _finally_ touches her properly.

Slow, sure strokes bring her desperately needed release and she shudders as the orgasm rushes through her. Emily gives her a moment to catch her breath, and then Lena can feel her legs being lifted up, now resting on Emily’s shoulders as she kisses a path down her abdomen and she throws her head back and moans loudly in realization.

_“Fuck.”_

 

_Please don’t stop._

 

_Please pleasepleasepleaseplease._

* * *

Tracer smiles as she helps load her injured teammates onto the Orca. The sunny smile seems out of place in the somber atmosphere of injury and defeat, but it is the only thing that she can do.

 

She can’t break down in front of them.

 

She has to be their rock.

* * *

She comes again with a wordless cry. Gentle hands lean her back onto the bed and remove the blindfold from her eyes, and gather her into a tight hug.

Lena feels wetness down her cheeks and realizes with a start that they are tears. She burrows further into Emily, the stress of the mission catching up with her at last and she cries. Emily kisses her head as sobs wrack her slight frame, rubbing her back comfortingly.

 

She doesn’t use words. She doesn’t need to.

 

Lena can break down in front of Emily.

 

Emily is her rock.

* * *

A loving hand wipes away dried tears and cards through her hair as Emily peppers her forehead with kisses. Lena murmurs happily and grabs it with her own, pressing a kiss to it.

“Feeling better?”

She catches Emily’s eyes and gives her a small smile.

 

“Much.”

They lie entwined in comfortable silence, and Emily traces the angry red lines on Lena’s back, causing her to press even closer into the embrace. Her hand creeps lower and she smirks.

“More?”

Lena flushes and grabs the errant hand, moving it to rest around her waist instead.

“... _later_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [ this ](http://for-general-madness.tumblr.com/post/158507049754/%E3%83%84) comic.
> 
> Come say hi :)


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